


Up at the Crack of Stupid

by Spoodlemonkey



Category: X Company (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Pizza Place, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 22:05:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11217192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: It’s a little after 3 am when Neil manages to make the short trek from his dorm room to the all night pizza place around the corner. Stumble may be a slightly more accurate description really.





	Up at the Crack of Stupid

It’s a little after 3 am when Neil manages to make the short trek from his dorm room to the all night pizza place around the corner. Stumble may be a slightly more accurate description really, seven hours in front of his laptop fighting with his American History paper and he’s lost the feeling in his legs and sees spots every time he blinks. He has an exam in two days he needs to study for, another paper due the day after, and he’s still stuck on page seven of ten on the Revolutionary War. He’s a product of the mother land; he should be exempt from this.

He regrets ever signing up for the class.

The fluorescent lights blind him as he stumbles into the air conditioned restaurant.

Shapes start to resolve themselves as he stumbles his way up to the counter, the caffeine he’d been inhaling by the bucket earlier wearing off and exhaustion making itself known. Pizza then more caffeine then 3 more pages and he might be able to catch some sleep before his ten am class.

“Wow,” the vaguely person shaped blur behind the counter says. Amusement and surprise colour their voice. Neil scowls.

“Slice of pepperoni.” He grunts, reaching for his wallet.

The blur wanders off and slowly the world starts to come into focus. There’s a sole person at the table in the corner, books propped open before him, half touched panzerotti next to him as he seems to highlight every other sentence. His glasses have slipped dangerously down his nose and he looks way too young to be pulling a late night like this but he dutifully drags his highlighter across another paragraph, appearing much more awake than Neil feels.

The sound of the oven door closing catches his attention, his mouth watering at the thought of hot, greasy food. He’s starving, he realizes. Not just the vaguely hungry feeling that had propelled him from his currently chaotic mess of a room, but a gnawing hunger that reminds him he skipped dinner. And maybe lunch.

“3.75.” The cashier returns and this time Neil can see the smirk on his plump lips and the amusement in his warm eyes.

Shit. He’s hot.

Neil glances down at the dirty sweats and tight, threadbare shirt he’d been sitting in for the past day now and internally cringes. Great first impression.

He hands over the money, cheeks heating.

His name tag reads _Tom_ and Neil wonders if he’s used to people wandering in looking like bums at the crack of stupid. He glances over at the guy in the corner again but he’s dressed like an actual human being.

“That’s Harry.” Tom catches him looking. “He’s in here almost every night. I don’t think he ever sleeps.”

“I can relate.” Neil clings to the olive branch as Tom hands him back his change. Their hands brush and something about the hour means Neil feels the brief touch all the way down to his toes. Or maybe it’s just Tom. “I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks.”

“Finals are a bitch.” Tom agrees easily. “I’m going straight from here to my exam in the morning. We don’t usually get people this late at night so I’ve been trying to cram it all in now.”

Neil can see the open texts behind the counter and the neat cue cards laid out next to them. He thinks about his own essay that’s still not done back in his room.

“Want some help?” Slips out, unintended.

Tom arches an eyebrow, amusement lurking in his eyes, at the corner of his lips as he seems to consider Neil’s offer.

“Know anything about Diplomacy?”

“Not a thing.” Neil answers with a grin.

Tom laughs and heads for the large oven to grab Neil’s pizza. This time, Neil has no trouble watching him go or the way his jeans cling to him like a second skin. Tom turns, catches his gaze and Neil can see the interest clear in his expression.

“You don’t have to be up early?” Tom hands over the slice and Neil’s stomach lets out a happy, insistent rumble at the smell of melting cheese. He thinks about his morning class, compares it to spending the next while with Tom and decides that he can miss it this once.

“Nah, I’ve got nowhere to be.”  

They take over a few tables, spreading out books and papers that they quickly forget about in favor of just talking. He nods off for a moment around six when Tom gets up to help a few kids, still dressed from whatever party they were at. He ends up sending Neil home to sleep, but not before he quickly plugs his number into Neil’s phone, and a promise of a date Friday night.

His essay is still waiting for him when he manages to stumble back to his room. He stares at it for a moment, then thinks _to hell with it_ and crawls into bed, thinks about texting Tom good luck, but he’s out as soon as his head hits the pillow.


End file.
